When I was a child, I often wondered why
There were gullies in my mother's forehead,
And crows feet fanning away from her eyes,
And spider webs tangled in her hair,
Their silver threads spreading everywhere,
Growing thicker and thicker every year,
Until hardly a black follicle could be seen.
In those idyllic years when I was younger,
Unsatisfied, I wanted to be older.
And I'd go to bed, pull my sheets,
And eyelids growing heavy with sleep,
I'd promise that my kids would be free
Of mundane things like bedtimes and chores.
When I was younger,
I equated age with freedom and power,
And I yearned for the day when I thought
I wouldn't have to answer
To another.
I never thought of
Responsibility,
Duty,
Worry,
Anxiety,
The army
Of spiders
That climbed out of the gullies in my mother's forehead
And wove webs in her hair
More intricate than the lace headties she'd sometimes wear
When her burdens became too heavy to bear
And she'd say, "There's nothing for it now but to pray."
With time though,
We all wake up to the reality
That life is like a still movie
That begins slowly
And then starts to flip through stages rapidly
Until you get to the stage where you blink
And there's a silver thread in your hair.
I woke up one morning to realize
That youth had fled while I slept
Leaving behind nothing but
Overturned cups, empty plates, crumpled cans
And cobwebs mixed in with confetti in my hair.
Now, there are spider webs everywhere.
When I was a child, I wished to be older.
And now that I am,
I'm grateful for age,
I've learned to appreciate life's every stage.
But every time I see my children
Running and jumping,
Whooping and laughing,
With bedtime as the only thing due,
Knowing that they'd probably head to bed with wishes for their future too,
Not having a clue
About the bills forming hills on the living room table,
I can't help but reminisce
And chuckle at my innocent wish
To be older,
Equating age with power
When I was younger.
